Cooking skills
by wilsonstories
Summary: Happy scenes again... they are just too cute. Characters belong to DOOL.


Sonny recently said he agreed with Gabi about how terrible Will's cooking was. And the sweet secret smiles made me think there is more to this story... so here it goes.

**Sonny's POV**

The first time he cooked for me we were already dating for about five months. I was going to be home late that day and he casually offered to cook, since he had the key to my apartment he could just come in and get started on dinner. His dorm room did not provide the necessary space to cook, but I have a nice kitchen in my apartment. And I happily agreed, looking forward to an evening of being looked after by my sweet, hot boyfriend. He promised me my favourite: lasagne, and I got my hopes up big time. About six o'clock I texted him:

'How is my dinner coming.'

It took him a while to respond, but when he did I smiled and tried to speed up my work so I could go home as soon as possible.

'Don't worry, I always take good care of my man.'

My man... that's what he called me, and I have never been so happy in my life. So I rushed my work, and decided to leave some paperwork for tomorrow morning. Then I closed the door to the coffee house behind me and drove home as fast as I dared to drive. When I walked up to our apartment door I was full of expectations, and even more importantly, I was very hungry. When I opened the door I found him busy in my kitchen, wearing oven mitts, trying to get the lasagne out of the oven. The table was set for the both of us, and he even had some laid back music playing in the background.

"Hi babe..."

He placed the lasagne on the table and turned towards me. He pulled me in for a deep kiss and I could help but smile. He let go with a sigh and asked:

"Why are you smiling..."

I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on his lips, and answered:

"It's nice to come home to you..."

His smile was bright and beautiful and I felt like I was sitting on cloud nine. My stomach made an unromantic noise though and he gestured towards the table:

"Let's eat."

I sat down and waited for him to get the right cutlery to fill our plates with lasagne, and while waiting I dared to look at the food for the first time. I have to be honest, I was not convinced by its appearance, but ever the optimist I believed in Will's talent. He turned around and with a smile tried to scoop some lasagne on my plate. We both looked at the substance dripping from his spoon and I cleared my throat in an attempt not to laugh. He just looked at it, and I was pretty sure he was very disappointed. So I decided to cheer him up:

"Honey... looks aren't everything... I'm sure it tastes fine."

Hope seemed to return to his eyes and he scooped the watery stuff onto my plate. I bit my tongue, knowing that it is not the time to tease him. When his plate was also full of whatever it was we were eating, he sat down and grabbed his fork. I did the same, while silently wondering whether a spoon might be more efficient due to the watery outlook of it. I was the first one to take a bite, promising myself I would lie if I had to and tell him it was delicious no matter what. I started chewing and from that moment on I forgot all about my promise. It was the hottest watery lasagne I had ever had, and it felt like he used every freaking chilli on the planet. I drank water straight from the tap, trying to stop my eyes from tearing up. Will was all concerned and worried, but I was unable to tell him yet. I suddenly remembered someone saying milk is the best medicine for this, so I reached into the fridge and drank as much milk as I could straight from the carton. After that I felt better and when I looked Will in his beautiful blue concerned eyes I just started laughing. His eyebrows raised and he seemed slightly annoyed:

"Sonny..."

I tried to catch my breath but he was just too cute, and the food was just too terrible, and I just could not stop laughing. After a while though, I calmed down and by now he had his hands on his hips waiting for me to fill him in on my thoughts. I took a deep breath, praying that my voice would not tremble and I would start all over again:

"It was... uh... so what did you put in it?"

"I don't know... some tomatoes, onions, and some chilli..."

"How much chilli..."

"A few Sonny... you once said you like spicy food."

I shok my head and bit my lip to avoid another laugh attack:

"No no, mister... this is not my fault."

He looked at his lasagne all disappointed and sighed:

"Guess I am not the best cook in the world."

I pulled him towards me and smiled:

"You are the cutest one though, and the sweetest..."

I leaned over and kissed him, but he pulled back almost immediately, crinkling his nose:

"Wow... you taste hot..."

"Well, you put a quite some chilli in that lasagne soup watery stuff, so who's fault is that."

He took our plates to put it in the sink:

"I am not even going to try it... let's go out for dinner."

Before we walked out the door I pulled him in my arms and kissed his cheek:

"Thanks anyway... I still love you... and just for the record?"

"Yeah..."

"I taste hot because I am one hot guy."

He was laughing against me and I felt his hands squeeze my butt.

"And you're full of it, Jackson Kiriakis."

His body leaned into mine and suddenly I was standing with my back against the door. His hands moved from my butt to my hips and he looked intensely into my eyes while he continued with a serious tone in his sweet voice:

"For the record though?... You are MY hot guy..."

His lips were demanding and possessive and I loved it. I'm his man and I am his hot guy. When he let go of my lips I considered to leave dinner for what it was and just take him to bed. But my stomach rumbled again and he opened the door and pulled me with him:

"Let's get you fed babe..."

(...)

The second time he cooked for me I was down with the flu. It was my second day and I felt horrible, sweaty and cold, while laying on the couch. He came home from a class and was all worried about me. He gave me some paracetamol and pushed me to drink some water. Then he helped me to take my shirt off, which was wet from sweating all day, and also helped me to put a new one on. His hands went through my hair and then he said:

"I'm going to make you chicken soup... that's the best thing for sick people."

I was too sick to vocally resist, so I just let him go to the supermarket to get the ingredients. When he came back I was asleep and therefore unable to find an excuse to stop him from cooking. So when I woke up I realised he was almost finished, which meant I was about to eat some of it. I told myself that soup is just too easy and no-one is able to screw it up. It is just water, vegetables and some chicken, surely he can do that. My head felt like it was splitting apart and my shirt was all wet again. He leaned over the back of the couch and said softly:

"Sit up a bit honey."

I tried to pull myself into a sitting position, but my head was too heavy and too painful when I had to hold it up on my own. He walked towards me with a bowl of soup and shook his head:

"Let me help you honey."

He put the soup on the table and went into our bedroom to get more pillows. I have to say he propped me up very comfortably and I sighed almost contently when I was able to rest my head against one of the fluffy cushions. He sat next to the sofa on his knees, with the bowl in his hands:

"Here sweety, have some soup..."

I hesitated, and tried to come up with an excuse. But my head was so painful and thinking was too difficult so I took the bowl and brought it to my lips. I took a sip and before I could swallow it I spat it back into the bowl.

"Hey Sonny... what's wrong."

I tried to compose myself and mumbled:

"Can you give me some water?"

He gave me my glass from the table and I drank a few sips. He was back on his knees next to me and after he put my glass and the bowl back on the table I let one of my hands stroke his hair:

"You're sweet... and thank you for looking after me... but please don't make me eat that."

"But Sonny..."

"Will, how much salt did you use..."

"Some... OK maybe a bit more but I thought you are sweating so much..."

Despite feeling like crap I couldn't help but smile:

"If I wasn't sick right now I would kiss you like I mean it..."

He smiled his lopsided smile and sighed disappointedly:

"I guess my cooking skills failed again..."

"Sorry babe... but the idea was sweet... so that made me feel better..."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. He squeezed my hand slightly and whispered:

"Well, I am not defeated yet... you will have your chicken soup... I'm just going to go to Great grandma Caroline..."

I opened my eyes and smiled again:

"That sounds like an awesome plan..."

(...)

His determination to cook for me was still going strong though. So he went to visit his great grandmother and she instructed him on how to make fajita's. I happen to love those, so he came back all proud and enthused, and we agreed he would give it a try the next day. I decided to come home early so I could keep an eye on him and rescue the food if it was needed. He smiled surprised when he saw me coming home at 5.30 pm, asking:

"You home already?"

"Yeah... I thought I could help you..."

His smile left immediately and he shook his head:

"You don't trust me, that's why you are here early."

Before he could turn away from me I cupped his face with my hands, saying:

"Honey... I love you... but so far your cooking skills have proven to need some further practice."

He bit his bottom lip and looked away from me for a while. And when he looked back I could see the smile in his baby blues.

"OK, you can watch... but I am cooking Sonny."

"OK... I'll watch."

And while he started on dinner I just leaned on the kitchen counter, while looking through the TV guide. I kept one eye on him though and I suddenly realised that this legitimate staring at him was rather nice. He was wearing his red and blue shirt, and his good looking jeans. I have always known that my boyfriend is very good looking, but right that moment he was completely irresistible. I realised my thoughts were going into inappropriate directions, so I picked up a random conversation. And it worked for a while, and then he bend over to put the fajita's in the oven, and I just couldn't contain myself. I turned him around and pulled his face to mine, giving him a deep and lingering kiss. My hands moved over his arms and his chest and before I realised it, I was opening the buttons of his shirt. He was overwhelmed at first, but responded very enthusiastically , so moments later my shirt was pulled over my head and left on the floor, while we found our way to the couch. I pushed him down and laid myself on top of him, while trying to open his jeans. It was hot and passionate love making, and we completely lost track of time and only the two of us existed. When we were both satisfied and trying to catch our breath, while I was still lying heavy on top of him, he was the first one to speak:

"Who knew that me cooking turned you on this much..."

I just smiled and kissed him again before I pulled us both up and reached for our clothes. He sniffed in the air and suddenly he was back in the kitchen wearing nothing but oven mitts. When he opened the oven door I knew it was not looking good... the food that is, because Will was looking amazing. Steam blew in his face and filled the kitchen area. He pulled out the fajita's and they were completely burned. His sad and disappointed face made me want to cuddle him so I just pulled him into my arms and did just that.

"It's OK babe, it's the thought that counts..."

"Hmmmm."

"I mean it honey... I love you so much, despite your lack of cooking skills."

He pulled back from our hug and frowned his eyebrows:

"Hey now... actually this time it is not my fault..."

"It isn't?"

"Don't play innocent here, Jackson... who was the one who got us started on the couch..."

I bit my bottom lip and looked at him slightly guilty. He waved the oven mitts in my face and continued:

"You were the one taking my clothes off... and your own clothes for that matter... and"

"Alright, alright... I'm guilty..."

"You bet you are... so you better make it up to me..."

"Seriously? After three failure dinners I have to make up to you that I just gave you amazing sex?"

"That is your way of explaining it... in my opinion you ruined my fajita's..."

We were both laughing now and I draped my arms around him and held him close:

"You look hot in those oven mitts..."

"Thanks babe... I am going to get dressed though... and I suggest we are going to find ourselves something else to eat."

I shook my head determinately and whispered against his lips:

" You are allowed to wear some boxers while we eat some cereal in this kitchen... and as soon as were finished eating there is no need for those boxers anymore..."

I felt his lips curve against mine, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. His voice was sweet and cute when he whispered back

"Even though you hate my cooking... from now on I am going to cook for you more often because it gets you in a very good mood..."

I just smiled and reached for the cereal, completely happy with having to have breakfast for dinner, because my gorgeous hot boyfriend is still naked, wearing nothing but oven mitts...

(...)

He still insisted on cooking properly for me at least once, so I gave him one more opportunity. I told him I loved English breakfast and that he could make me one coming Sunday morning. His eyes shined and he nodded his head furiously, and I was glad he would be cooking breakfast instead of my favourite meal of the day, as in dinner. On Saturday he made sure all the ingredient were present and I smiled at his enthusiasm to make me my breakfast in the morning. When we went to bed and just cuddled and talked he said sweetly:

"I can't wait to cook for you tomorrow..."

I just had to ask him, because after all these failed attempts I was wondering why he was so set on cooking for me:

"Why do you want to cook for me so badly honey?"

His fingers drew patterns on my arms and chest and he nuzzled his nose against my neck. I stroked his back and just waited for his answer, which came in a soft quiet voice:

"I don't know... it feels like I am looking after you when I cook you something..."

I felt his answer in my stomach and pulled him closer even though it was impossible as he was already flush against me:

"That's sweet babe..."

"That's not sweet... it's just... I don't know... it's what couples do right..."

The familiar feeling in my stomach came back again and I had to take a deep breath:

"I love you so much..."

"I love you too... and Sonny?"

"Yeah?"

"If I screw up your breakfast tomorrow... will you still love me then?"

I cupped his face and pulled it up towards mine. His eyes were showing his vulnerability and I wish I could express in words how much I loved him. I decided to give it a try:

"Will honey... I will always love you... always... and so far... I might not have liked your food... I loved you cooking for me... I love all the things you do for me... makes me feel special... so, no matter what breakfast is going to be... I love you, you cute, hot , crazy, sweet, amazing guy..."

He sat up slightly and looked into my eyes and I knew I was unable to hide from him:

"Sonny... are you tearing up...?"

I bit my lip and shook my head while swallowing away a lump in my throat. He leaned over and kissed me softly:

"Thank you babe... and I love you... more that I can say..."

I heard a smile in his voice when he continued:

"I guess I have been trying to express my love with my food, so far..."

I couldn't help but laugh:

"Wow, if that resembles how much you love me there is not much hope for me..."

But the way he nestled himself back into my arms proved me wrong, and showed me that I have nothing to worry about. The next morning I woke up to a soft voice whispering in my ear:

"Wake up gorgeous..."

I opened my eyes and was looking at my sweet boyfriend, holding a tray, and the smell of bacon and eggs woke me up immediately. I sat up and looked at the tray expectantly since the smells were very promising. When he put the tray on my lap I looked at the sight of a perfect breakfast. He silently sat down next to me, and stared at me while I took my first bite. It was perfect... absolutely perfect. My boyfriend may be a lousy dinner cook, he knows how to make a proper breakfast. Before he could start eating I leaned over and kissed his cheek. We smiled and I whispered softly:

"You did it..."

"I did what..."

"You cooked for me... properly..."

His eyes sparkled and for a minute I forgot to breath. He looked at me apologetically though and asked:

"Sonny?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy this worked out... but I suggest that from now on you cook dinner, or we go out for it, and then I will stick to making us breakfast..."

I laughed out loud and nodded:

"Sounds like a good idea babe..."

He smiled his sexy smile and I raised my eyebrows. His voice was slightly deeper than before when he said:

"Just to point out to you, I have just been cooking... in my boxers only... just thought you should know..."

He winked and I bit my bottom lip when I imagined what he just told me. His lips are on my cheek and the smile in his voice melts my heart:

"Eat you breakfast first sweety... I worked hard on this... and then you can do whatever you want..."

My fork was swaying in mid air and I looked at him:

"Whatever I want?"

His smile was cute and devilish at the same time in a way only Will Horton can do it. And his suggestive words were turning me on more than anything else:

"Ever since I found out what me cooking does to you... I am going to use it babe..."

I just smiled my happy smile while I returned my attention to my breakfast. My left hand reached over to his and feeling his fingers link with mine made me happier than I ever thought I could be. I realised that this was it, that special thing that everyone is looking for.

I am one of the lucky ones... I have found my one special thing...


End file.
